Last Sunday afternoon, Schlongie and I made the trek. We arrived in the middle of a monsoon, but as soon as it cleared up enough to head out, away we went. We had some lightnin' a few miles in front of us and passed a lot of boats goin' the other direction, so I reckon we were the only dummies headin' out.
It turned out great though. We got soaked pretty much the whole ride out, but once we were there, the weather cleared up and we fished until dark without another drop. We didn't get slammed by fish like Dad and Jess had done a few days earlier, but we did managed to pick away at a few and wound up with eight or nine of 'em to bring back for supper.
Schlongie is what I consider to be a good ol' boy, who has a fascination for all things antique and old-fashioned. That said, I was pretty damned happy when he reeled in his first ever striper on an old rod and reel that belonged to Robert's grandfather. That ol' fishin' rod has undoubtedly hauled in a helluva lotta fish over the years, and we got in three or four more on it that day alone.
I was worried when we ran headlong into that storm on the way down, but it turned out to be a fantastic evenin' well spent with good friends. Not a shabby way to spend a Sunday at all.